


Knotty

by trillingstar



Series: Ignorance & Bliss [1]
Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Age Play, Community: 50kinkyways, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-25
Updated: 2009-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keller's got a real soft touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knotty

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ozsaur.

  
Keller stops at O'Reily's pod to discuss the results of their last detonation, but Ryan's not there. It's just Cyril, standing in the middle of the floor, hands clenched at his sides. He looks pissed and frustrated, so Keller pushes the door open and raps softly on the frame.

"Hey, buddy, where's your brother?"

Cyril's bottom lip juts out into a pout. "He told me to stay here. _Stay_." He snorts. "I'm not a dog!" He kicks at the wall next to the beds.

"'Course you're not," Keller says. "Your hair's gettin' pretty shaggy, though."

Cyril kicks the wall again. "Ryan said he'd brush it, and then he left!" He glares at Keller. "There's something scratchy in my shirt." He twists his arm, batting ineffectually at his upper back.

Keller glances behind him at the guard tower, then down to the quad floor. "You want some help? I can do that." The door shuts with a pressurized hiss. He saunters toward Cyril with an easy smile on his face, his posture unthreatening. "Come on, you got a brush or something?"

Cyril gives Keller a long look, but he moves closer, grabs a brush and comb from the shelf above the sink, and holds them out shyly.

"Great, that's real good." The footlocker is under the window, next to the bunk beds. Keller considers it, then puts the brush and comb down. "Okay, where's it scratchy?"

Mutely, Cyril turns, awkwardly pointing to the middle of his back.

"I think I see a bump. Cyril, I'm gonna touch your back, okay?" Keller asks. There's no response, so he says, "Nod. Let me know. I'll help you out."

Cyril nods. Keller slides his palms underneath Cyril's shirt and up his back. Goosebumps break out on Cyril's skin, and he shivers. "Cold!"

Keller laughs. "Sorry, I shoulda warmed 'em up first. Don't know if that'd make a difference though; you're so warm. You always this warm? Feels nice."

"Yeah," Cyril mumbles.

Keller fingers the lump of rubber band and hair under Cyril's shirt. "I think this'll work better if you take your shirt off. Your hair's tangled, there might be a knot there."

"Okay," Cyril says, fighting to pull the sleeves down. Keller steps closer, running his hands up Cyril's sides and helping to lift the shirt up. Cyril panics for a moment when the collar tightens around his neck, almost as though Keller's pulling on it from behind, but then it slips easily over his head.

Keller pats his back, and then his fingers graze delicately over Cyril's arm. "There we go."

Cyril laughs as he tosses the shirt to the floor. "Tickles!" He arches his back and smiles over his shoulder at Keller, who has a funny look on his face. The smile drops away. "What?"

"Nothin', nothing at all." Keller stares at the hard muscles in Cyril's back. "Cyril, I'm gonna touch your back again, get a better look at this knot. We'll sit over here."

With one hand low on Cyril's back, Keller steers him over to the window by the bed. Picking up the brush, Keller sits down on the trunk and spreads his legs wide. "C'mon, sit down right here. I'll brush your hair."

Cyril's brow furrows. "It hurts when Ryan does it." He wraps his arms around his bare chest.

Keller grins. "You don't have to worry about that with me. Promise you, it won't hurt a bit. If it does, you tell me, but you know, I got a soft touch." He smiles invitingly and pats his thigh.

Biting his lip, Cyril shuffles closer. Legs crossed Indian-style, he sits between Keller's legs, and he can't help making a noise when Keller trails his fingers down Cyril's shoulder blade. He leans against Keller, feeling the cotton of Keller's shirt and pants at his back.

"There you go," Keller says quietly. "I'm gonna look at this knot now. You just close your eyes and relax."

Keller uses the comb first, picking a few strands at a time and pulling them out from the knot with his fingers. He works methodically, draping the free hairs over Cyril's shoulder and humming tunelessly under his breath.

Cyril waits for it to hurt, readying himself for pulled or caught hair, but his anticipation diminishes after a few minutes when that doesn't happen. Keller is exceedingly gentle, and Cyril sinks into a drowsy state, his head tipping forward and his eyes drifting closed. Moments later, he hears Keller speaking to him.

"Good, you're doing real good. Think I've almost got this knot out, you really had it tied up there. Told ya I had a real soft touch, didn't I. Tip your head this way. Good boy."

Keller's fingers touch his back, stroking over his skin, and Cyril sighs. Ryan doesn't take his time like this; no one has since Cyril lived with Shannon. She did a good job, but she got impatient easily, because he fidgeted too much. But he remembers a couple of times when she took him to get a trim, and the lady washed his hair, scrubbed at his head and behind his ears, and then blew it dry. He loved how sleek his hair felt for a long time afterwards.

Everyone at Oz is so rough and loud, but so far Keller hasn't hurt him. He concentrates on Keller's voice again.

"That feel good, hmm? Your skin's so warm. Knot's out." Keller leans forward, his arms on his thighs, and Cyril's surrounded. Keller smells soapy and nice, like a dad, full of confidence.

"Here ya go." Keller hands him the band from his hair. "You hold onto that for now. Listen, I'm gonna start brushing now. You sit tight. You're doing real well." His breath tickles at Cyril's ear.

Cyril feels Keller shifting around behind him, and then Keller's hands rest on Cyril's shoulders, pulling him to sit upright. "Tip your head back some, that's good. You can close your eyes if you want. I don't mind."

"Okay," Cyril murmurs. He feels so relaxed. He's not sure he can sit straight up, so he puts his arms on Keller's thighs. He feels Keller shudder so he starts to move away, fast, but Keller's voice stops him.

"No, you're good, that's fine, you keep 'em there. Gonna touch your head now, so I can see what we're working with here, that's all. Tilt back a little more. There you go." Keller uses his fingers like a comb, running them from forehead to the back of Cyril's skull, his fingernails scratching lightly on Cyril's scalp. "Feel good?"

Cyril manages a contented hum and Keller chuckles softly. "That's right. Good boy."

He separates Cyril's hair into sections, then shifts forward on the bench, the crotch of his pants touching the middle of Cyril's back. "Here we go. Yeah, you're ready for this. I'll take care of you."

Cyril nods. He doesn't know what Keller means, but he's more than willing to let the tender ministrations continue.

The first stroke of the brush is like a caress. Cyril feels it from scalp to neck and then the feeling stretches further, sliding down his back and settling in his belly. He makes a noise again, but Keller doesn't laugh this time. Keller brushes the same strip of hair several more times, then smoothes his hand over it and tucks the length over Cyril's shoulder. He's working the brush over the next section when something catches at the base of Cyril's neck and he gasps at the unexpected flare of pain. Reflexively, he jerks his head forward, and Keller wraps his hand around Cyril's forehead, stopping him.

"No, don't move. Something's hiding under there. I'll get it, don't worry. I'm sorry, I shoulda caught that earlier."

It's an apology, but Cyril can't tell from Keller's tone if he's really sorry. Warily, he leans back, but Keller doesn't force the brush through the knot like Ryan would have. Instead, he's picked up the comb again, and he pushes until Cyril's chin touches his chest, and then Keller touches the back of Cyril's neck lightly with only the tips of his fingers.

Rubbing one hand down Cyril's arm, he says, "I see the problem. I'll take care of it."

Cyril almost nods off while Keller picks the knot apart, the teeth of the comb scraping carefully against his sensitive skin, and Keller's fingers sweeping up and down his spine. He hears Keller alternately droning and humming in the background, a steady flow of noise that becomes comforting.

He's surprised when Keller leans forward suddenly and presses his face into Cyril's hair, but he relaxes when Keller doesn't do anything except breathe. Keller's fingers rub tiny circles on the back of Cyril's neck.

"Mmmm, good boy," Keller murmurs into Cyril's hair. "Yeah."

Keller starts using the brush again, long strokes down Cyril's back, and every few minutes he switches to the comb to worry at a knot. He moves between each section smoothly, and Cyril's hair feels like silk against his skin. He wants Keller to brush his hair every day. Cyril remembers seeing their landlady's cat stretched out on the grass, enjoying the sunshine, and he feels like that right now, ready to purr under Keller's gentle touches.

Keller cups his hand under Cyril's chin and tilts his head up. Leaning in closely, his breath puffing warmly against Cyril's ear, he says, "I'm gonna touch you right here." He taps Cyril's temple with the comb. "It might tickle, but I want you to try not to move too much."

"Okay," Cyril answers. His eyelids are heavy and he feels like he's floating. Keller's a reassuring weight at his back.

Keller was right; this doesn't hurt at all.

It does tickle though, when the comb glides through Cyril's hair right above his ear, and he's squirming before he remembers Keller's request. But Keller's body only follows his movement, pressed against his back, and he hears Keller make a funny noise like a gasp. Cyril tries not to move, and then Keller leans forward, kneading at Cyril's shoulder with one hand.

"That's good, you're doing great." Keller sounds like he's been running too fast. He moves his hand from Cyril's chin down his throat, splaying his fingers along Cyril's collarbone, his thumb stroking over Cyril's Adam's apple. "Your hair's so soft now. See, it doesn't hurt if you do it slow."

The noises of Oz have long receded; Cyril feels safe, protected by Keller's warmth, his soothing voice and gentle hands. The feeling in his belly is stronger now, a tingling like when he saw Shannon in her towel after a bath.

Keller twists Cyril's hair into a ponytail, and then combs his fingers through it, starting from behind his ear and letting it fan out across Cyril's back. "Pretty," Keller whispers. "That's real pretty."

Keller's moving around behind Cyril in tiny, jerky movements, but they're not so different from how Keller moved while he was brushing Cyril's hair, so it doesn't bother him. He rests, feeling warm and shivery, like drinking hot cocoa after playing in the snow.

Keller grabs a fistful of Cyril's hair suddenly and tugs, hard enough to hurt, and then he grunts and lets go. Cyril's confused, but he guesses it means Keller's done, even though he doesn't want it to be over. Keller uncurls his hand from the base of Cyril's throat and starts to get up, so Cyril says, "Wait! Wait."

He reaches out, pushing his chest against Keller's thigh, and fumbles underneath his pillow, withdrawing a clean bandanna. He half-turns, handing the bandanna to Keller with a triumphant smile, and the look in Keller's eyes makes Cyril's tummy roll around and feel itchy inside. But then Keller smiles toothily at him and takes the cloth, so Cyril settles happily back down between Keller's legs.

Keller pulls all of Cyril's hair up into a loose ponytail, and Cyril gives him the elastic band to fasten it. Keller brushes Cyril's hair out one last time. "You're all set now. You did real well."

After fixing the bandanna into place, Keller squeezes Cyril's shoulder. "There ya go."

Cyril watches from the floor while Keller stands, unbuttons his pants, wipes his dick with toilet paper, and then flushes the wad. He kneels up when Keller turns, and the look in Keller's eyes makes Cyril feel naked.

"Put on your shirt," Keller instructs, his eyes gleaming. He waits while Cyril retrieves the discarded t-shirt, and then he helps, holding the neck of the shirt wide open so Cyril's hair doesn't get messed up.

Keller pulls Cyril's ponytail free from under the shirt, combing his fingers through the hair. "You're a good boy," he says softly. "Good boy."

Cyril ducks his head down, and when he looks up again, Keller's leaving the pod, the door closing slowly behind him. He surveys the floor of the quad, then turns back.

"Miss Sally's on," he says, and Cyril's out the door.

They find seats on either side of Ryan, who does a double-take when he sees Cyril's hair is combed and tied back neatly.

Ryan whirls to look at Keller, who's leaning back in his chair, fingers laced together behind his head.

Keller smirks.

  
end

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 33: age play at 50kinkyways (LJ).


End file.
